


I See You.

by ABANDONEDACCOUNT



Category: Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Complete, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-28 10:12:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2728517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ABANDONEDACCOUNT/pseuds/ABANDONEDACCOUNT
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>she saw him, once upon a time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I See You.

       Her gaze seemed to breathe fire in the cold, seemed to slice a man open when he was wrong. He hadn't meant to pass her trio of friends, who screamed loudly with a childlike innocence he was so used too. But he had faltered when he'd heard her laugh, when her voice had touched a crescendo of notes that could stop a hurricane. He'd paused in the bounce of his step and whirled on his heel. His fingers flexed around the staff in hand, and his brow crumpled.  
       His shoe less feet had stumbled forwards to peer at the group of teenagers, that were thrown throughout the snow like dolls that he saw children play with once upon a time. Boys, the same age as himself, physically, were tossing snowballs back and forth. A few sat to the sidelines, and he saw her as her lips pocketed mischief and glee that teenagers seemed to lose as they grew older. Her fingers, half gloved with bare fingertips, danced across the rug of snow that sat beneath her feet. The scarf dragged behind her body as she stood, and bolted, straight into the line of fire.  
       She flew past him, as if her feet held wings he could not see, like a fairy on the fingers of the wind. As she sprinted, her fingers dipped into the snow and rolled it with expert fingers. Her snowball landed straight into a boy's chest, and her hands shot up in victory, those same tinkling notes burning every nerve ending across his spine when she laughed.  
       "Annabelle! Watch it!" It was a split second before she was hailed with snowballs, making him laugh at the innocence that struck her features. She cowered, but never ceased to stop laughing. She was lost beneath a thrumming body of snow and laughing friends.  
         _Annabelle._

* * *

 

       Over the time she had caught his attention, he learned more about the world than he had in his three hundred years of unadulterated loneliness. He learned of languages he had heard of, but never uttered with unsure syllables. Had heard prayers that broke his heart in the kiss of the dawn, and had seen love he had not seen since the lake had swallowed him whole into a liquid belly.  
        Her fingers were folded across the child's stomach, another holding a child's book between her fingers. The window was cracked open, allowing his fingers to push it apart and perch on the ledge, where neither child nor teenager could seek his presence. Her voice, a thrum of unwavering syllables, brought a story to life with gnarled witches voices and happy children's laughter. The child, a boy with dark curls and bright blue hues, sat against her, as if she were a lifeline and he were drowning in the words the brunette muttered.  
        "Anna," the child had whispered, and his heart clenched with a gentle jealousy he was not untouched by. To speak her name, to have her actually answer in return, made him wonder. Would she ever answer him when he called? Or would her own name fall on deaf ears when he whispered it? "Anna, are they real?"  
        The girl, pausing in her story telling, turned and her brow crumpled with an expression that tugged at his heart. She looked confused, as if such a question about fairy tale characters and heroes had never been uttered with such innocence from the child. Then, a grin curled across her lips.  
        Her fingers dug into his scalp as the child dripped away into the velvet fingers of sleep, and his head fell against his staff in slight awe at her words, one leg swinging mindlessly. He would always remember her words.  
        "Ky, of course they're real. Who do you think brings those presents? or takes your teeth? There are heroes in every day life if you can't find these ones, you just have to look," she answered, more sure than anything in her life. Her lips pressed against the child's forehead as he drifted away between pillows and stuffed animals. Her body slipped from his bed, and as she moved to grasp at the door, his sleep-tinged voice touched the air.  
        "Anna," Ky whispered, fingers digging into the body of the pillow, and Anna turned. He briefly reveled in the sight of dark eyes blown wide with sleep and love for her little brother. Ky coughed once, but still smiled with the same grin his sister held. "Anna, I love you."  
          _Anna, I love you._

* * *

 

The next winter, when he came back home, Ky no longer laid dormant beneath his sheets and Anna no longer wore her smile so generously. The world seemed to dim, and it wasn't until the ring of church bells echoed in his ears that he realized why her soul had lost it's color. An illness.  
 _"It's not your fault, Anna."_  
 _"They tried their best."_  
 _"It'll all be okay."_  
        But it didn't seem too; their lies seemed to grow as her smile seemed to drip away. He watched, as she slowly cracked under the harsh reality that life bore, that her shoulders started to cave into her body and her eyes became less bright as she remembered the boy that had once smiled for free. That had once been her brother.  
        The nights were the worst, and he made sure, that when her window was open, he toned down the harsh scratch of the winter outside and when she sobbed and screamed into her brothers pillows, his scent still clinging to it for dear life, he comforted her with a warm heart and cold fingers.

* * *

 

       Her eyes had returned with the tinge he had seen when he had gazed upon her the first time, when she breathed mischief and fun and her blood ran with a love so deep, even the moon stared in gentle admiration of the girl. The smell of life clung to her skin, and as she danced, the world seemed to revolve around bounding feet and flying curls.  
       But the night had not been one of her best, as the drinks burned her throat and he had to watch, as strangers touched a mouth with their own that he had dreamed of from the moment he saw her. Jealousy curled through his fingers, tore his arms with deep ribbons and she was none the wiser. She giggled as men, with jagged hearts and empty promises, promised her a lifetime under the haze of alcohol.   
       The club was loud, and the world pressed against his temples, but he couldn't leave her to her own devices in this place, as the hungry eyes caught onto uncovered skin and a gentle smile as the drink spilled across the floor. But when the hands had landed on her hips, as she drunk away the pain, he had shot out from the club in anger.  
        Cold brushed across his skin and he groaned at the pleasant buzz it threw across his skin. She was too young, too gentle to be in such a place. He knew the pain burned, knew that it licked at your skin before biting, the venom sinking into your veins and the only promise to release it would to drink it away. But it never worked.  
        Hours had passed and she stumbled from the entrance, with an arm around her waist. He mumbled for her age, but she never answered and he didn't seem to care as her lips stopped him from asking again. He felt sick as he watched her, too out of her mind to realize how much damage she was causing to her heart and his. His fingers curled around the staff, the gentle creak of wood splintering in between his frosted fingertips.  
        But, they disappeared down an alley, and not even moments later, he heard her scream. Quicker than lighting, he was on his feet and bounding down the alley. The man, with dirtied breath and angered eyes, held her too the wall, crushing her chest against his and forcing her mouth on his. Untold anger flashed through him as he saw the tears collect, as he watched the girl, who had built herself up after her explosion, start to break once more; and this time, she wasn't held in his hands.  
        It was a blur, but by the time that her eyes had refocused, her captor was strapped to the floor, unconscious, with frost climbing across his legs. Her own fingers grasped at the wall, feeling the same swirl of frost against her gentle skin. Her breath stuttered, and she turned, and _looked at him._  
        He paused, blinking in shock as dark eyes darted around his face, as if she were truly seeing him. But she turned, with no shock or gaze of gratefulness, that he had seen so often in nights when her prayers had been answered that day, and he felt his body deflate. Then, she turned and fell away into the darkness, leaving him to remember that she could not see him.

* * *

 

       They had found out, he realized, when he had been called to the main room. Upon his appearance, his friends had turned with blown eyes in shock. North, a man with a large belly and twisted white whiskers adorning his face, sighed, as if in disappointment or exhaustion. Sandy, a short man twisted with gold and dreams, held a silent question mark over his head. Tooth curled in on herself, a warrior queen, sprouting with hummingbird feathers, reduced to a broken woman. The only one that seemed remotely normal was Aster, a 6 ft pooka with grass green eyes that blazed with anger.  
       All were startled when he hit the wall, and pain bloomed in his shoulders and the back of his head, as well as his throat as Aster pressed his forearm against it. His feet dangled.  
       "I knew ya' were stupid, but I didn't thin' ya' were this bad!" he growled, thick, gray ears flattened against the sides of his skull in anger. His fist curled, and the only one to pull the fire-breathing spirit away from him was Tooth, whilst he choked on the ashes of his angry words.  
       "Aster! That is not how we deal with this," the woman scolded, and her hands found the boy, folding him upwards into a standing position. He reared back, fingers flying to the red mark that circled his throat like a chain, and it only held him to the wall, away from the accusing glares. Her voice was worried when she spoke. "Jack, why?"  
       "I don't know what you're talking about."  
       Aster snorted, unamused, and ran his paws across his arms, delving into rutted fur and scars that had healed years before. North, a man of wonder, held himself high with pride.  
       "Jack," he warned, the tinge of his voice sending a prick of fear crawling up the skin of his bones, curling around his spine like a snake. The fear bit at his neck, swallowing him whole. "It is against spirit law to fall in love with mortal, especially guardian to fall in love with mortal girl."  
       His heart thundered against the clockwork of his ribs, his fingers curled and the air suddenly seemed to thick. He knew what was coming, and his curiosity with the girl would only grow, would only become more unbearable until he died from lack of generous jokes and perfumed scented words. His head shook, and he found that the fear became all to familiar. When had he become so used to her presence? When had he begun to crave for the heat of her skin, and the light in her features when she talked of worlds that she was passionate about? When had he become dependent on a girl who could not see him?  
       "No, N-North, you can't."  
       "Jack," Tooth pleaded, fingers reaching out to grasp his wrist, but he shot back, his body slamming against the wall to get away from honey-kissed words. Just like the words they had uttered to her when her brother had died. "Heartbreak is the worst thing to happen to anyone, human or spirit. We don't want to lose you."  
        But he wasn't listening anymore, he couldn't. The world had closed in on him, and his breathing had pulled upwards with the anger in his veins. How could they? They couldn't tell him what to do! It was his life! His heart! Even if he didn't believe he was in love, he knew that she had piqued his curiosity more than any human he'd met.  
         So, he ran and ran until the wind swallowed him whole and the blood in his veins didn't lick flames any longer. He had always preferred the cold.

* * *

 

       "You know, this is a really good book," she had whispered into the veil of the twilight around her. He was paused on the curve of her headrest, reading across scrawled words of a world that smelled of ink and adventures that she had loved with her entire heart. He felt the grin pull across his mouth as she continued to talk, a regular feat, without realizing someone was actually listening. "I think he would've loved it, personally."  
        "Oh yeah? Why?" he asked, flipping as gracefully as a snowflake in the wind, and landed at the foot of her bed, just balancing on the covers and the body of her creaking mattress gave no indication to the weight of the snow sprite that had landed there. His temple pressed against his staff as his gaze fell over her, snuggled beneath the blankets with glasses perched across her nose and her hair thrown into a messy ponytail on the top of her head. The lamplight smeared across her skin like the hovering kiss of sunlight on Saturday mornings, and he found her beautiful. Then, for once, she answered him.  
        She pulled the book away from her face once more, tongue poking at the corner of her open lips, before turning the page and, folding the edge of the corner which irked him more than he'd like to admit, she closed it. "He really liked to have fun."  
        Then, she placed the book on her bedside table, and her half-painted nails danced across the surface of the wooden object, fingers curling around a handle on one of the draws, and pulling it open. Excitement gripped him with a strong vice as she moved to lower the book into the draw, but paused in her movements. A ball of confusion settled between her brows as she stared down into the usually empty draw. Sitting herself up onto her knees, she peered further inside, laying the book next to his feet, where he seemed to thrum with such exuberance, he practically vibrated. Slowly, her fingers dipped into the darkness of the draw.  
       Fingers folded around gentle chain, it swung back and forth, like a pendulum. Her jaw slackened in confusion, and her fingers graced the underside of the object. A necklace, woven with silver and frost, sat on her palm. Glittering flecks seemed to shine and shimmer in the lamplight, unbeknownst to her that it was snow. She shivered as it made contact with her skin, but she had always preferred the cold to warmth. On her palm, the body of a frosted snowflake sat, icicles seeming to hang from it's branched arms. She blinked back gentle tears.  
       As she clasped the necklace around her throat, he sighed. "Happy birthday, Anna."

* * *

 

       It was completely unexpected, of course, as a hail of snowballs buzzed around the snow-kissed park. The children, Jamie and his friends, flew with such happiness and competitiveness that he found himself giggling maniacally as he tagged a few of the kids with his snowballs. He dipped between trees and flew like a bird as they tried to hit him, but only a few struck true on his body.   
       "Jack!" Jamie called, making the spirit turn, only to have the snowball thrown into his face, sending him flying back into the mess of snow, leaving the children to fall apart with giggles ripping at their sides. The boy growled with mischief, and he flung the snowball at an unsuspecting child.  
       "Free for all!" he screamed, ducking as snowballs rained overhead. He only paused in his actions as he heard a yelp from behind him as he dodged a falling snowball.  
       Suddenly, the oxygen was torn from his lungs and he forgot to breathe. She was there, watching with a gentle smile, before the snowball had slammed into her front, another into her cheek. Her hands, still in the same gloves he had seen her with the first time, trembled with an expression he didn't know. But then, a realization dawned on him as she blinked, and rubbed a few fingers into one eye.  
       He felt his feet shuffle forwards, and the children vaguely mutter behind him, asking if the girl was the one that he had been talking about, on the rare occasions they asked, for almost a year. The snow no longer mattered, the sunlight that melted it away no longer made him annoyed. Her hands dug into her pockets, and though she shuffled back as he came to stand before her, he felt his own breath lurch as well as hers.  
       Trembling fingers pointed to where the children watched, with slight terror mixed in with her gaze. She was _looking at him,_ searching ice blue eyes and silver hair and an unwavering expression of hope. Only did he breathe when she spoke. "How did you...?"  
       He didn't answer though, as he felt the air too light for his flying heart, the cold to frozen for his warming chest as he finally asked her. "Can...can you _see_ me?"  
       A scream of joy would rip from his throat later that night. Her head nodded, dark eyes trained on blue ones. "I see you."

 

 

 


End file.
